


An Invitation You Can't Decline

by QueridaMyDear



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, F/M, Flirting, nanny knows you're hot for her and drags you somewhere private to flirt with you, this is the most self indulgent thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueridaMyDear/pseuds/QueridaMyDear
Summary: "Oh, so shy suddenly.” The nanny cooed presumably toward Warlock, though she was looking right at you, her red painted lips quirking in a small smile that told you yes, she knew you had been staring, yes, she could see right through you, and yes, she was going to play with you like a cat with a mouse.





	An Invitation You Can't Decline

You had been Mr. Dowling’s intern for just under two weeks and you were doing your absolute best to impress him in the hopes there would be a job waiting for you on his payroll when you graduated from university. Whatever he wanted, no matter how trivial, you did it. A rundown of the morning’s headlines? Done. Thank you cards to send out to a local politician who had invited him and the wife to a dinner party? Already picked out. Coffee? You knew Mr. Dowling’s favorite order and picked it up on the way to the office every day.

Today was a bit unusual, as Mr. Dowling had barely been in the office but was already on his way back out when you walked in, coffee in hand, and he stopped in front of you, looking thoughtful.

“I left my laptop at home, I was just stepping out to get it. Why don’t you come along? You can meet the missus and my little boy, Warlock. He just turned one.”

Warlock was a weird name for a kid, but you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to try to get in Mr. Dowling’s good graces. And meeting the family could only be a good thing as far as your prospects for keeping this job were concerned.

There was a police escort, which seemed excessive and like a huge waste of taxpayer money, especially when Mr. Dowling’s house came into view. It was massive, and you were certain there were servants, maids, butlers, hell, his kid probably even had a nanny. You weren’t sure why one of them couldn’t bring his laptop to him, but you were already there, and it wasn’t like you were going to critique him on it.

You followed Mr. Dowling out of the car, quickly straightening up your clothes and making sure your shirt was tucked in. Had to look your best if you were going to meet Mr. Dowling’s wife!

Mr. Dowling went in and you stayed close behind him, in awe of the sheer size of the entry hall. Exactly what did this job pay??

“Lucius, where’s my wife? And where’s Warlock?” He asked a passing butler.

“I’ll go get them.” The butler excused himself, returning a short time later with Mrs. Dowling following after, looking lovely and put together, her clothes, accessories, and haircut all looking very expensive.

“Harriet! Darling, this is my intern.” Mr. Dowling enthusiastically and boisterously introduced you to his wife as you shook her hand.

“Lovely to meet you. You’ve been working with my husband for… Just around two weeks, wasn’t it? You must be doing remarkable work.” There had been swaths of interns she hadn’t met, hired and fired in a matter of days or weeks. You felt some pride, knowing you’d made the cut, and that you’d even been mentioned to his wife.

“Where’s Warlock?” Mr Dowling asked, glancing around the intimidatingly large entry way you were still trying not to gape at.

“Oh, I think the nanny was outside with him, she must be coming in soon.” Mrs. Dowling said, joining her husband in looking around for their child. As you had thought, of course. Their own nanny.

“Come along, dear.” A soft Scottish accent sounded from one of the nearby hallways and a woman who was presumably the nanny walked in, Warlock walking unsteadily after her as she lured him along with open arms. “There, now, look at you go!”

“Ha, look at my little tyke, one year old and already up and walking!” Mr. Dowling laughed, sounding as proud as if he had been the one to teach Warlock to walk. The baby fell over then and the nanny scooped him up in her arms, walking over to where you stood with Mr. and Mrs. Dowling, your breath suddenly catching as you saw the nanny up close. She was tall, very tall, with immaculate, wavy red hair and tiny glasses that hid her eyes, but you were certain they could see right through you. She wore all black and looked severe, but in a very distracting way that kept bringing your eyes right back to her no matter how many times you tried to look away.

“This is my boy, Warlock.” Mr. Dowling went on, bringing you back to reality when you realized you’d been staring at the nanny. 

“H-Hello, Warlock.” You said haltingly, greeting the little boy, who stared at you with the wide-eyed indifference of a child looking at someone he doesn’t know. 

“Oh, so shy suddenly.” The nanny cooed presumably toward Warlock, though she was looking right at you, her red painted lips quirking in a small smile that told you yes, she knew you had been staring, yes, she could see right through you, and yes, she was going to play with you like a cat with a mouse.

“And who do I have the pleasure of meeting here, Mr. Dowling?” She asked, that soft accent chasing a chill up your spine.

“This is my new intern. This is Warlock’s nanny, Ashtoreth.” Mr. Dowling very briefly introduced you, as the introduction to the nanny wasn’t as important as his wife or son, but as far as you were suddenly concerned, it was the most important introduction you’d made since starting this job.

“H-Hello, Ms. Ashtoreth.” You said, voice a little weak. She was so lovely, so statuesque, so intimidating, it was hard to maintain your composure in front of her, especially when her little grin deepened, fully aware of the effect she was having on you.

“Mr. Dowling, I wonder if I might dare to borrow your intern for a moment?” She asked her boss, who looked a little surprised by the request. “The butler is busy and I need to get young Warlock’s winter wardrobe out of storage. The bins are so heavy, your intern looks strong enough to help me. Won’t be but a moment.”

“Well, I suppose. I need to find my laptop anyway. Go with Ashtoreth and help her with the clothes or whatever, we’ll meet back here when you’re done. Got it?”

You nod, panic and excitement in your heart. 

“Come along, dear.” Ashtoreth coos at you and walks away toward Warlock’s bedroom. You follow eagerly, heart pounding a little. Even if all you do is haul some bins out of storage for her, you’re eager for just a moment, just a second alone with her. You find yourself hoping she’ll praise you if you work fast enough or help her actually unpack the clothes and put them away. Suddenly you’re willing to do almost anything to see that little smile of hers again that sees right through you and lures you in.

She leads you to, well, a baby’s nursery, and plops Warlock into a playpen, where he immediately occupies himself with a toy mirror.

“Now, the bins are in the closet, dear.” Ashtoreth walks to the absurdly large closet (he’s a baby, how much clothing does he possibly need?), her back to you, and you’re aching for her to look at you and through you again. You follow, puppylike, at her heels, ready to do her bidding. 

Stepping into the closet, the bins aren’t that large. Certainly nothing she couldn’t handle herself. You start to ask her why she needed your help but she’s right there in front of you, looming, backing you into the wall of the closet. You feel small and overpowered and she isn’t even touching you, just looking down at you. Over the tops of her glasses, you swear you can see eyes that aren’t human.

“Hello, you sweet thing.” She purrs, and the way she says it makes you feel like prey being sized up by a predator but you know you’d hold still and thank her if she sank her teeth into your throat. You want to return the greeting but it wasn’t meant to receive a response, so you just keep quiet and bask in her presence and let her stare through you.

“So. You’re Mr. Dowling’s intern?” Ashtoreth asks cooly, standing just a bit closer, almost pressed against you, just a small amount of space between you and you’re longing for her to stand closer, to feel how fast she makes your heart beat. You nod, finding it hard to recall words at the moment, aware of the warmth of her body and the shape of it, just the barest hint of her breasts pressing into your chest. You’re cornered, hands shaking, but overjoyed, your face hot and breath erratic. Surely she can see how flushed you already are, how your pupils grow wider whenever she speaks or stands closer to you.

“And how long have you been working for him?” Her long fingers touch your face and a small, strangled sound leaves your lips, the shock and surprise of the reward of her touch making you forget how to speak. Her skin is so hot it feels like it leaves burning paths as she lightly traces from your cheek to the corner of your mouth, your lips opening, hoping for a touch, praying to be allowed to kiss her fingertips, but they stay hovering at the corner of your mouth. 

“Two weeks.” You whisper, the words finding their way to you in spite of how hard it is to think at the moment, your every thought and all your senses consumed by her as she stands so close but too far away.

“My, you must be doing a very good job indeed, to be brought home to meet the family so soon.” From her lips it feels like praise, like she personally approves of your work even though she isn’t involved, and you’re starving for more of her approval. You’ve been proud of your work up until now, and eager to work hard, but now you feel that spark of motivation to work harder, to show her how good you can be.

“I suppose you’ll be spending much of your time at his side then. In meetings, talking with heads of state. Very important things. Such a shame you won’t be coming by the house very often. I could use a hand from time to time. But then, you have such important things to do.” Her thigh slides forward between your legs and you whimper, wanting to grind down but she didn’t say you could, and you know, instinctively, you must wait for her permission if you want this to keep going. Doing anything unbidden will earn you a scolding, or perhaps she’ll frown, disappointed, and simply abandon you where you are without another word. But because you are good and refrain from riding her thigh even though you ache to, she curls her fingers into your hair over your ear.

“I would help!” You insist, wanting, needing to be in her good graces, “I mean, you’re right, I might not be here much, we’re only here because Mr. Dowling forgot his laptop, but when we do come by I’d be happy to help! I’m sure Mr. Dowling won’t mind either, I’m his intern, I help him, and helping you would be helping him!” You spit out every word, every hopeful excuse that comes to mind, anything that might give you a reason to see her again the next time you end up at Mr. Dowling’s house, no matter how flimsy the pretext. You’re about to speak up more to show how eager you are to assist her in any way she needs when she slides a finger over your lips to silence you and you look up at her, longing, grateful to have her touch your lips.

“I’m sure we’ll both be able to think up ways to bring you back to this house to come see me again. Mr. Dowling could forget his laptop again. Or misplace his phone. Since he has introduced you to the household, perhaps next time he’ll send you on your own. Unsupervised.” Her suggestions and the implications of what might happen should you arrive on an unsupervised errand have your knees shaking, and it’s only because of the wall and her thigh between your legs that you’re still standing. She removes her finger from your lips and you follow it for the briefest of seconds, but slide back into the place against the wall, receiving that pleased smile again as your reward.

Ashtoreth backs up and frees you, and gently adjusts your clothes for you, her hands smoothing over your waist and her touch makes you shiver from head to toe. Your reward for being obedient for her, just the briefest of intimate touches, a preview of what could happen if you're good for her. 

“You run along now. Hopefully it won’t be too long before I see you again. I’m sure you’ll find a reason to come by.” She smiles and hauls the storage bins out of the closet herself, leaving you standing there, head spinning, still feeling the ghost of her body against yours. 

When you leave the closet she’s nowhere to be seen, and neither is Warlock. You walk back out to the entryway, where Mr. Dowling is waiting, laptop in hand, which he shoves into your arms to carry. As you follow him out to the car you’re already scheming, already thinking up ways to find excuses that will allow you to go back to the house where hopefully, you might run into Nanny Ashtoreth again.


End file.
